The Candle
by silversrider
Summary: His life is only lit by a little candle, the only source of warmth in the cold winter, after the war ruined his life. A humanized one-shot with no pairings and includes character death.


_**The Candle**_

"_Don't come back for us…"_

Private picked up the candle, standing on his nightstand, stroke off a match and lighted the candle. His room was lit by the flickering light, but still, his room was nothing more than blackness. The man sighs and moved the blankets from his body. He shivered a little from the coldness in the room, but he bit his lip and stepped out of his bed. With the candle in his hand, he slowly walked towards the chair, holding the cloths he had made ready for the next day. _"We have to use our daylight carefully." _He lived by those words. Daylight, the last glance of hope in a cold, dark world. The man walked out of his room, slowly, as silent as a ghost.

Excited, that was the word Private was looking for. Skipper had been excited. What had he told him? Something about being happy that the war had started, something about the 'real job'. Action, Skipper was always full of action and excitement.

"_FIRE EVERYTHING!" The team had been on edge the whole day, except for Skipper of course. The commanding officer watched his team running back and forth through the __bushes. Skipper slapped them across their faces, his hand leaving behind red marks on their cheeks. "This is not the way to fight this war..."_

He could remember Skipper's words as if they were spoken yesterday. Those words were imprinted in his mind. His dreams made him hear them over and over again, as if the real Skipper still spoke to him. Little Private had grown up with dreams, dreams about magic horses, dreams about the best candy, dreams about being loved…

Ghosts, you could call them ghosts now, untouchable, unnoticeable, but still… Whenever the wind rushed outside the house, whenever the rain poured down on the roof, Private could hear them speak, with words that kept them alive. Words, that gave him courage, the strength to fight for his presence, maybe even his freedom. The strength he had lacked before.

The man turned on the battery-powered radio. He sat still, listening to the crackling voice, telling the listeners precisely how long the war was during. How long the winter would be during. Private saw a little light shimmering through the curtains. The sun was early, indicating that the winter was almost over, with spring knocking on its door.

Long ago, people told him that dreams weren't real. Long ago, people told him that he should stop expecting the best of the world. He never did. Little Private had grown up with expectations. Only the little Private wasn't so little anymore. Just like his dreams, he had grown, just like the expectations… That was until the war began.

"_Listen… Men…" They heard it before. Multiple times. But this time, this time was different… The feeling of sensation in the air, the feeling of dread… Leaving loved ones behind… That hadn't been there before. The three men stood frozen before their commander. "The odds that we all make it back are…" Skipper didn't finish his sentence. He avoided the look of his men. Even Kowalski didn't have the guts to tell them what the real odds really were…_

The man picked up the paper. He wondered, every day, over and over again, why the paper had never stopped. Why were there still people writing about those horrible events… Why didn't anyone do something about those events… Why did nobody care about those innocent people, dying for freedom… Dying for life, the right of life. Why… Why had he stopped doing something about it?

How could he continue without faith, without light? The man laid down the paper. How can you see without eyes? How can you breathe without longs? How can you live… Live without a heart?

"_It's not far away now… Don't panic. We have at least each other… We won't…" Skipper took a pause, his normal steady, commanding like voice was trembling. His eyes filled with fear. "We won't die in vain… The war, this war, will end." Skipper walked towards his soldiers, with a look full of despair, but still somewhere beneath his mask of adulthood, a little glance of hope and youth was to be found on his face. _

Private walked towards the kitchen, his feet leaving little marks in the blood-red colored carpet. He opened the refrigerator. Empty. The man turned around and looked at the calendar hanging against the beige colored wall. How long was it until the end of the winter again?

"_But Skipper… What if they…" The boy took a pause. "What if they catch you? What if they catch us?" Skipper turned towards the frightened boy, tears welling up in his eyes, but the little light of hope wasn't died out yet… Not yet. "Don't worry Private, we can do this. We have to do this." Skipper raised his hand and petted Private on his head. "Take your look-out positions boys. I'm moving in." Skipper gave a last glance to his men. He closed his eyes, gave a specific look at Kowalski and turned around. _

Private opened the door of his house, stepped outside, into the cold, virgin snow. The cold air made him shiver a little, his breath became visible for his own eyes. He gripped tighter on to the coupons in his hands, his fists clenching, the paper crumbling. If only he had fought harder, if only he had listened better, then he would have saved the world from another day of despair, another week filled with tears, another month… Waiting for the spring to come.

"_Skipper!" Kowalski cried out when the building in front of them exploded. Private watched the two men next to him nervously. What were they supposed to do now? What could they do now? What… What had happened to Skipper? Kowalski turned towards the younger boy. "Private, run for it… Save yourself. Don't come back for us!" The large man nodded towards Rico and together, they ran towards that what remained of the building. Leaving Private behind._

The line with people waiting to get their food was immense. Private saw some people he knew, but he avoided their looks and ignored their yells. The queue moved slowly, very slowly. It made the people feel cold, if they ever had felt warm. Electricity had been cut off, food had gone on ration. The queue slowly moved and although Private was surrounded by people, he could only think of the events he had seen, the last words his friends had spoken. He could only feel the loneliness, his loneliness in a crowd of people.

Private opened the front door of his house, after his little trip to the city. He stepped over the threshold and immediately, a feeling of loss, despair and loneliness overwhelmed him. He let himself fall to the ground, his hands laying motionless on the blood-red colored carpet, while his body shook violently with tears. The vision of the hallway blurred before his eyes. His friends, his hope, gone, all gone. Long gone. The hopes that they could change the world, could win this war, those hopes faded away as fast as the second explosion had gone.

"_And we will always remember them as the great people they were. As the best friends, the best soldiers…" Private stepped away from the little podium. While walking past three little portraits of three great men, he saluted in front of the pictures. Three silent tears searched their way out of Private's eyes to the ground._

The man picked himself up from the ground and slowly walked towards the refrigerator, putting his food into it. Private looked around the kitchen, the feeling of dread still spreading through his body, leaving his fingers numb, his hands laying helplessly besides his body. What's life worth living for?

Private sat down at the chair, close to the window. He had stopped caring. That's why he never saved those innocent people. That's why he had stopped fighting against this war. The light outside was already fading, the sun would leave the cold, white world alone for another night of sleep, another night of dreams, or nightmares.

The man picked up the candle beside him, lighted it and walked with it to his bed. Tomorrow would come, tomorrow would fade away. Soon, the man would be lost in his dreams, dreams about his friends, dreams about happier times. The candlelight extinguished, leaving the room dark and cold.

Only, the candle would never be lighted again, the room would never be filled with hope again. But while the snow melted away, little spring flowers made their entrance to a whole new world… A world with sun, light. A world with love and butterflies, for no one to see except for them. For no one else to experience except for them.

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_I hope that you liked this story! :)_


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